Beautiful White Lies Duet Read online

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  I walked the pier several times over the next few days and visited Neptune’s dock, hoping to run into Will. He wasn’t there, but that was hardly surprising. He was too polished, too smooth. It was clear he was more than a longshoreman in for the season. Still, the ache low in my abdomen assured me of his presence.

  My curiosity became a preoccupation, and it haunted me. I wanted nothing more than to know why I was drawn to him. I searched the streets for him, needed to see his eyes again to resolve what my mind had shown me only on paper.

  By the time Thursday finally rolled around, I’d grown more irritable—frustration had grabbed hold and bitten hard. God, I needed to get a grip.

  I was getting ready for my shift at Nick’s Restaurant, still preoccupied, finding it difficult to focus on anything other than getting to work, when Jess texted to let me know she was running late. Jess and I tended bar there. Neither of us needed the second job, but it was another way to pass time together.

  It was the night of the annual event celebrating the restaurant’s long run in the community, and it would draw people for miles throughout New London County. If my gut was right, and Will Hastings was still around town, I would see him there. Maybe then the possessed mood that kept me from sleeping would subside.

  I pulled the red T-shirt with the restaurant’s logo over my head, tucked it into cutoff jean shorts, brushed through my long brunette layers, and added a touch of shimmering nude lipstick. Then I slipped out the front door and headed down the sidewalk toward Nick’s.

  2

  Josh Mendes insisted on getting in the way of my mission. One of Ed Sheeran’s songs followed him in from the restaurant’s rear patio, where the twenty- and thirtysomethings hung out. He stood in silence, staring as I mixed and poured cocktails.

  “I’m a bit busy, Josh. Do you want another beer?”

  “Yeah.” He grabbed my hand when I reached for his empty. “Come back to me, Ellie. We could be good together if you’d give it another shot. Let’s try again.”

  We had dated on and off in the three years since I’d come home from UConn, though we’d never gotten it right. He was a good man, a lieutenant with the local police department. I wanted to love him, but it never came to me—that collision of fiery emotional and physical bliss I refused to live without. Josh needed consistent encouragement, and I’d grown tired of managing the intimacy between us.

  I pulled my hand back and grabbed a clean glass, filling it with Guinness. “Please don’t. I can’t do this conversation again. Nothing has changed. I’m sorry.”

  “If there’s something I can do to change your mind, Ellie, you know I’ll do it.”

  “I know.” I offered his beer with a friendly smile before turning away. When I glanced at the wall of mirrors to see if he’d moved on, it was Will Hastings I found staring back at me. Every part of me tensed, my pulse quickening from the intensity of his focused eyes. I spun and scanned the crowd. I couldn’t let him get away.

  We locked stares again. I searched for the dark, menacing trait that had nagged at my subconscious. It was there, but it didn’t frighten me. It filled my senses and fueled my curiosity. This man would never need encouraging.

  Will canted his head, signaling for me to follow him out the rear exit.

  “Cover me for a bit, Jess.”

  “What are you up to, Ells?”

  “Just need a break, that’s all. I’ll be out on the patio for a few minutes.”

  She bumped her hip against mine as she passed. “Got it.”

  The terrace was crowded, though Will was easy to find. He leaned against the building’s brick wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet spread wide. I pushed my way through the sweating mob of drinking and dancing revelers, staying close to the wall, but lost sight of him when someone grabbed me and pulled me into the mix. Yet the guy who’d snatched my arms released me abruptly and stepped back.

  Will was behind me. “Turn round, beautiful,” he said close to my ear. The warmth of his breath on my neck caused goose bumps. His words held no hint of intonation. It was a command.

  I turned to meet his eyes.

  He flashed his brows and rubbed his chin, a glimmer from one of the sun’s last rays bouncing off his platinum Patek Philippe watch.

  I ignored the odd fluttering in my stomach and waited.

  He stepped closer, compelling me back against the wall. One of his hands rested against the bricks near my head. His eyes never left mine.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  “I told you my name.”

  “Yes, but why are you here in Stonington?”

  “Business. I have a job to do.”

  “At the pier?”

  A smirk dominated his lips, his face. “No, not at the pier.”

  That assuming smile made him impossibly more handsome and almost unmade me. I wiped my sweaty palms on my hips. “Why did you introduce yourself to me?”

  He shrugged but never broke eye contact. “I shouldn’t have.”

  “Have you followed me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? Why would you do that? You’re clearly not a shy man.”

  “You should talk to your sister about that. I’d rather she filled you in.”

  “What does that mean? Do you know my sister?”

  “Not personally.”

  “You’re making no sense.”

  Another shrug. As he glanced at my mouth, his eyes grew possessive, and I was mesmerized. I wanted to reach up and touch his five-o’clock shadow. His scent intoxicated me. It was sensual and earthy, like sandalwood and peat. Peat—he was a Scotch drinker.

  He cocked his head and flashed a satisfied smile.

  “Where can I find you?”

  His smile dissolved, and his eyes burned deeper into mine. “Stop looking for me.”

  I matched his determined stare. “Stop following me.”

  “You don’t have to look for me. . . . I’ll find you again, Ellie. Just talk to your sister. Give her my name. Tell her I’m here.”

  Neither of us moved. Was I breathing?

  Finally, he dropped his arm and stepped back. “It’s getting dark. You should go inside.”

  My body submitted to his suggestion before my brain could catch it. I stopped and looked back after several steps. He was still there, watching me with his arms folded against his chest. Our eyes connected again, and I knew he’d be back.

  When I reached the door, I glanced over my shoulder one last time, but he was gone. I spent the rest of my shift trapped inside my head, confused by what had happened on the patio. Only one thing was clear—I wanted to see Will Hastings again.

  Jess gripped my shoulders and shook me, causing the beer in my hand to spill. “Ellie, did you hear me? I have to go. The emergency department needs all surgical nursing staff at the hospital STAT. There’s been some kind of street fight on the north side of town. Josh was dispatched to the scene. It’s about time to close anyway. You’ll wait for Isobel?”

  I shot a quick text message to Isobel, asking if she knew Will and if she planned to meet me at closing as she typically did, but my sister never replied.

  3

  My street and the house were quiet as usual. I waved goodbye as I turned the key, unlocking the front door. Josh had sent one of the rookies to drive me home from the bar. She gave a nod and accelerated. The patrol car sped down the street, heading north, with its flashing red and blue emergency lights engaged, back into the odd chaos of the night.

  There were no lights on.

  There was no aromatic bouquet from Gran’s evening chamomile to greet me.

  There was no one around to witness my terror when I stepped inside and found my sister and grandmother lying on the floor, holding hands in an ever-widening pool of deep red. The cross of Saint George drawn in blood sullied their beautiful faces. They’d been shot.

  Gran was already gone.

  Isobel blinked her hazel eyes and tried to tell me something.
She tugged on the scrap of paper sticking out of her front pocket until her strength was exhausted and her arm fell to the floor. A fading whisper floated away on one of her final breaths. “Find Lissie. Get out. . . .”

  I shouted at her, demanded she stay with me, and fell to my knees between my dead grandmother and dying sister, clutching their hands in mine.

  Then they were both gone.

  A scream pushed hard at my lungs for release, but I wouldn’t allow it. I gagged on the coppery scent filling the foyer. Stinging tears flooded my eyes. Pain-filled moments that felt like an eternity dragged on until Gran’s old clock chimed eleven times, forcing me to dismiss the pain. Fear for my life and Lissie’s took its place. I had to find her.

  I grabbed the crumpled paper hanging from my sister’s jeans. It wasn’t a scrap at all but a thick sheet, and when I unfolded it, Will Hastings’s eyes stared back at me. Something senseless, something I couldn’t rationalize that was neither right nor wrong skipped through my mind and banged around inside my skull.

  Isobel had taken my drawing. Beneath his picture, she’d written a name—Ethan—and some numbers. Ethan? I shoved it into my pocket and jumped up, causing myself to slip, righting myself briefly only to stumble and crash into the center table. I anchored there for a moment to catch my breath. My hands trembled and my mind reeled, unable to compose complete thoughts.

  Run.

  I ran up the old Victorian staircase and called out for Lissie. Her bedroom was at the back of the house, and when I got there, the door was open. I burst through and pounded the side of my fist against the light switch.

  The room spun. I reached for the doorframe and pulled in a deep breath to combat the sickening rush of adrenaline. I called out again. “Lissie, are you here?”

  There was no reply—no sound at all. No sign of her even after searching beneath the bed and in her closet. I hit the hallway and headed to Isobel’s room, but Lissie wasn’t there either. My own room was just as empty.

  A sob pushed upward into the back of my throat as I raced to the last bedroom. It was there, in Gran’s room, where I heard a thump against the wall. Everything in me froze. Then it came again—another soft thump against the far wall.

  I sprinted across the room to the walk-in. Lissie screamed. She was crouched in the corner of the secret room at the back of the closet. Her hands covered her head. She hid in the same little room where Isobel and I had hosted clandestine tea parties with our dolls when we were children. The little room in which we’d sworn to have seen ghosts and wondered if our parents’ spirits were haunting us. I didn’t know my sister had shown Lissie our hiding place but thanked God she had.

  “Lissie, sweetheart—” I lowered myself in front of her, peeled her hands from her head, and lifted her chin so she could see me. She lunged like a wild animal and wrapped both arms so tightly around my neck I had to loosen them to breathe.

  We were in danger—the rolling in my gut was proof. The best course of action would’ve been to get out of the house, but for several moments, I couldn’t move. I could do nothing more than hold my trembling niece.

  Isobel’s last words were instructions. Find her daughter and run. I needed to move.

  I listened carefully for sounds anomalous to the old house. There was nothing more than the soft whistling from the air ducts. “I need to call for help, then we’re going to leave,” I whispered. “But you must stay here while I get my phone. Understand? Do not move. I won’t leave without you.” I didn’t want her to see, didn’t want the image of her mother’s lifeless body burned into her memory.

  I pressed Lissie into the corner and exited the secret room. Still inside the closet, I dragged my fingers along the top of the door casing for the key to Gran’s large trunk. I rummaged through it to find the black box that held Pearl and a magazine loaded with six rounds.

  Pearl was a pretty little .25-caliber automatic pistol—a gift to my mother from my father, so I had been told. It had engraved nickel plating and a mother-of-pearl stock. Natural patina added beauty to the piece. I wasn’t unfamiliar with the gun despite the fact that I’d never before carried it. Gran had tried to give it to me several times, but I’d refused her each time. Isobel would have taken it—had she not already had two of her own.

  My sister had been prepared for all unknowns as if Earth’s destruction had been coming. Not only had she owned guns, but she’d also practiced weekly at the local shooting range. “Why can’t you listen for once? Take it, and after you learn how to use it, we’ll get you something more useful. Do it, Ellie. Take the gun,” she’d insisted after our grandmother had tattled on me.

  We celebrated her thirtieth birthday two weeks earlier. The three years that separated Isobel and me seemed like three decades. We couldn’t have been more different.

  I stuffed the gun into the waistband of my shorts at the small of my back and tiptoed out of the closet, pulling the door shut and listening before I entered the hallway. In Lissie’s room, I made quick work of stuffing a backpack with some of her things before creeping to mine, where I added my phone charger and car keys.

  My cell phone was downstairs in the foyer. I sidled down the wooden stair treads with my eyes focused upward on the wrought iron chandelier. It was on the floor near their bodies, so I crawled past the ornate twin entry doors but kept my head turned away. Vomit burned my throat, and I beat it back down. I reached out and fumbled until I made contact with the phone. Once it was in my grip, I hung my head and fought my body’s overwhelming urge to faint.

  I needed to get up, get us out.

  It was too late. A floorboard creaked behind me. The pounding of my heart flooded my ears. Someone was in the house. I’d screwed up—we shouldn’t have still been there.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” the intruder’s voice echoed.

  4

  My captor pulled the gun from my waistband and lifted me from the floor, covering my mouth with his hand so I couldn’t scream, and carried me into the living room. He was unwilling to remove his hand from my mouth or allow me to turn and face him, but I knew who it was the moment he touched me.

  “Don’t make a sound. You can’t overpower me, nor outrun me.”

  That rumbling voice. Will. Ethan.

  “I’ll remove my hand if you assure me you won’t scream.” My back was pulled firmly against his chest, and both of my arms were restrained by one of his. “Be calm and quiet.”

  I wanted to scream but nodded in agreement to his terms instead. The power surging through his body was irrefutable. He didn’t need a weapon. I didn’t know if he was Will or Ethan, murderer or not.

  Oh, God, I’d left Lissie.

  My mind and body were breaking down, and disjointed thoughts created more confusion than I could sort through. My knees gave way.

  He caught me and lifted me into his arms, and I rested my head against his chest for a moment to catch my breath. His steady heart thundered in my ear. I raised my head to look at him. His lips were parted, and his gaze burned into mine. I wasn’t able to push out words or sound.

  “They’ll come back for you. You must let me help—I can get you out of here. I’m not the enemy. . . . I’m here to protect you. Can you stand on your own?”

  “Yes,” I whispered, hoping I was right, hoping my legs would hold me.

  He set me on my feet and steadied me, then cradled my face in his hands and stared into my eyes again. “I know you’re confused, but I won’t hurt you. Not ever. I swear it.”

  I swayed. My head spun. “You didn’t do this?”

  “No.” There was something convincing in his eyes. It was fierce but honest and certain—strong and compassionate, like the feel of his hands on my face. I’d misread the darkness that lurked within those eyes, in his soul. It was driven by an intense protective instinct, not menace.

  I chose to trust him despite the alarm surging through me.

  “Lissie—she’s still upstairs.”

  “There’s someone else in the house?”
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  “She can’t see this. She’s just a little girl.” I pushed back tears.

  “Go to her now. I’ll follow.” He released me without allowing much space between us.

  I grabbed the backpack from the bottom step and threw it over my shoulder as we headed up to get Lissie from Gran’s closet. The tired staircase groaned under Will’s weight.

  He spoke into a communication device as we climbed. “Car to the front . . . be ready to roll. Need cover upstairs. There’s another survivor.”

  When we reached Lissie, she was curled into a ball. Her hands covered her head again, and she wept. I squatted and tried to pull her to me, but she resisted. “It’s time to go. Come on, sweetie. Come to me.” She wouldn’t come out of her fetal ball.

  “There’s no time. Move aside,” Will said.

  I searched his eyes for reassurance and stepped aside.

  He lifted my niece with speed and a firm gentleness, and after she’d curled back around herself, he shifted her into one arm. Smaller than average for her seven years, she looked like an infant against his broad chest. She whimpered when we covered her head with a blanket, and she pushed out a little hand seeking mine. I held it tightly while she dug her nails into my flesh.

  “Walk slow and stay close to me.” Will’s warm hand covered the small of my back.

  A brawny man with buzz-cut black hair appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a large pistol drawn. I stiffened as my heart forfeited another second of my life.

  Will nudged me forward. “It’s okay. . . . Ben’s with me.”

  As we descended, I focused on Ben to keep from looking at the horrific sight of my murdered family. He had a thick, oblique scar that slashed across his forehead, and he was dressed like a soldier, wearing a dark T-shirt, military trousers, and black combat boots.

  The two men flanked me, shielding me with their bodies as they moved us from the house to the black Hummer waiting in the otherwise empty street. Will opened the door and pushed me into the back, slid Lissie onto the seat next to me, and climbed in. “Move it. Drive north, then head west to Lords Point,” he said as he cuffed the driver once on the shoulder.